So now I'm looking as trendy as preteen sensations (far too often lumped together with tweens.)
I can now open my mouth about an inch, maybe even a bit more.
It's cool because it means I can do cool sexy things like stick out my tongue long and hard at small children.
Except not really because my tongue currently extends about point eight inches from my mouth.
I can french my steady though (to a certain extent.)
Although at first, it seemed eerily reminiscent of the way 2 girls kiss in porn, with their tongues stuck out flicking one another.
You mean like THIS??
No silly, like THIS.
Inspiring masterpieces like...this??
I saw the video for this song I'd never heard (it's apparently all the rage/maybe even the number one ring tone) during my stay at the Montreal General.
I thought that it was pretty silly and then I saw this Miley Cyrus I keep hearing about and am generally very confused by, just as I am by all millionaires born in the year of my favourite Salt 'n Pepa album, Very Necessary (read: 1993).
Anyway, Miley Cyrus seems silly too and not to be mean or anything but I feel as though she has one of those "loves giving blowjobs to any Tom, Dick or Aaron Carter" faces and I thought that ever since I was first was alerted to her existence at a Toronto Walmart in January of this year.
As far as I am concerned, Miley's foray (or is it Hannah's? WTF?!) into Annie Liebowitzdom and the cult of Vanity Fair is the least of her problems.
The girl looks like the kind of trouble that meets grade 8 boys in bathroom stalls for after-school specials, no kissing required.
Of course, there is nothing wrong with enjoying giving head. However, in order to maintain the position of most respect, one must never walk around with one of those "loves giving blowjobs to any Tom, Dick or Aaron Carter (or Tommy Lee)" faces, at least not while comparing the prices of competing pita bread brands or perusing the hot new hairclips at your neighbourhood Ardène.
Rumour has it, the key to lasting love and respect is to NOT look like you love smoking the pole of some dude you met 5 minutes prior in the bathroom at Saphir (even if you do.)
Not during the act of though, let's be frank. This when you must at LEAST pretend you love it (even if you don't).
It's when you're knocking on melons to find the perfect canteloupe that you must appear, at worst, a distant cousin of Miley Cyrus (4 times removed.)
That's right ladies and germs, a warm quilt.
Basically, what I'm trying to say is that if you don't love going downtown, no matter which way you swing, you will die alone.
And if you're one of those boys who makes tuna fish jokes about vaginas and insists that you're girlfriend "doesn't even like it anyway" she probably just doesn't like it because you give off some lame tuna fish joke aficionado vibe which makes her uncomfortable telling you how to make it better, which actually makes it worse if it ever does happen.
So she'll claim she's never really liked boys playing around "down there" anyway, so she doesn't end up feeling uncomfortable about how lame she is (when you're probably the one that's be the lamest if you fear vaginas just as you might fear venus fly traps.)
So yeah, smooching with your jaw all wonky and non functioning is weird.
Not weird in the Alan Cumming sense of the word but I wanted to take this opportunity to inform you that more often than not, when someone says "You know what's WEIRD??", it's best to reply "Alan Cumming".
And with conviction!
Making out is sort of weird but kind of cool still.
Now I'm not entirely sure, but I'd imagine most in my position would be unable to perform fellatio.
It would all depend on the circumstance, of course.
In other news, rumour has it (preteen sensation) handjobs are way the coolest anyways.
Speaking of which, one time my number one honey love city gurl Katie Hermon's savvy and sophisticated older sister Julia alerted me, a fellow human being far too interested in the colour of one's finger and toenails, to the fact that french manicures should be avoided at all costs (especially during job interviews for the kind of jobs where you wear dress pants and Banana Republic seperates), eloquently stating "they remind me of porn".
Something to think about, no??
It's my birthday on Thursday and the cool thing is that my sister is coming to Montreal for the occasion.
I reckon my brother is not coming but he did (supposedly) get me approximately one cup of WASABI PEAS for the occasion which would be cool if my sister and someone I made out with when I was 16 hadn't eaten all of them when they were feeling at loss for stimulation at a party my brother (supposedly) had last week.
That said, it would be coolest if I could eat hypothetical WASABI PEAS.
The best thing that happened all day was when I got off the bus in Ottawa with my former roommate Caroliner, and her parents were there to scoop her up and my occasional guardians (my sister and her steady) were not.
I didn't cry or anything but they offered to wait until my temporary elders came, which was sweet.
As we three cruised out of the terminal, Hilary said...
"Caroline's dad is so good-looking it makes me SICK. He looks like Burt Reynolds..."
And with that, I leave you with this.
And this.
And this.
And why not, this too.
I sincerely hope that at least one person looking at these beats off to Burt today, tommorow, and with conviction.
Because Burt Reynolds don't take no half-ass bullshit.
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